The Usurpation of Vigil Newsie
by M.M. Vestal
Summary: When a series of malevolent newsletters begin circulating around Hogwarts, Sirius Black and Miranda Stone must pair up to bring down the mysterious Vigil Newsie. There's just one small problem. They can't stand each other.


A/N: I apologize in advance for any horrible, accidental American slang. I've tried my best to do a little research to avoid the major pitfalls of being born on the wrong side of the pond, but I know I've probably missed things. If any of you are natively from England and would like to lend your assistance, I would most graciously accept it! Please PM me or review with an inquiry. Thanks…oh and review!

Chapter One – A Most Grievous Turn of Events

"You are an insufferable prat, Sirius Black!"

The shout echoed in the Great Hall. Forks and knives stopped clattering against plates as the entire hall stopped to witness the unfolding fight between Hogwarts' most famous enemies.

"Get stuffed, Stone." Sirius snarled as he slid into a seat at the Gryffindor table. He grabbed a jug of juice and poured himself a drink. Across the isle, Miranda Stone seethed as she piled sausage after sausage onto her plate. Her unnaturally gold and red colored skin stuck out like a sore thumb at the Ravenclaw table. He would play for this particular humiliation. She had a Quidditch match against Gryffindor today! She crammed a sausage into her mouth and chewed violently. His time was up.

Three seats down from the furious Miranda Stone sat Tom March. He watched the going ons from a relatively safe distance knowing first hand what happened if someone got in the way of one of their fights. He leaned back into the isle to whisper to his potions partner, Remus Lupin. "What on earth was he thinking pranking her on game day? She'll murder him on the field!"

Remus tilted back in his seat and quietly spoke through the side of his mouth. "I tried to tell him that last night, but he was determined to get her back for the Giant Squid incident."

Tom snickered. "That was brilliant. I'm still trying to figure out how she go it into his dorm bathtub." He shook his head in admiration.

The Gryffindor shuddered. "Don't remind me. Poor Peter still has nightmares about it. It almost dismembered Sirius when he found it in the morning." He laughed. "Although, you should have heard him scream—could have given a banshee a run for her money."

The boys shared a laugh as they watched Miranda leave the Great Hall. The Gryffindor team soon followed with Sirius and James leading the way. Tom briefly wondered what was in store for the Gryffindor beater. He was sure it would be one heck of a match. He threw his napkin on the table and rushed to the field eager to get a good seat for the upcoming bloodbath.

Two hours later, Minerva McGonagall stood before the two thorns in her side. Miranda Stone and Sirius Black were well on their way to giving her a heart attack. A new teacher this year, this was not exactly what she had in mind when she signed on to teach Transfiguration in the newly appointed Headmaster Dumbledore's place. She glared at the two misfits over her glasses. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Miranda stared at her shoelaces, her grimy uniform caked in dried mud. Sirius lifted his head defiantly. "You don't think I started this, do you?" He asked incredulously. "She banished my clothes in the middle of a match! I was starkers out there!"

Indeed, Sirius was nearly starkers at that very moment. Clad in only a sweat towel tied hastily around his waist, he made the new teacher blush. He certainly was a rather fit young man. Minerva shook her head noting their ten-year age difference. She looked to Miranda for an explanation. "Well, Ms. Stone?"

"He got what he deserved. Look at my skin! Madame Pomphrey couldn't even fix me! I just have to wait it out." Her chest heaved with exertion. She wasn't going down alone. She tried a different tactic, shifting her defiant stance to one of humility and defenselessness. She willed her eyes to fill up with tears and sniffed, her eyes gazing imploringly at McGonagall. "What am I to do, professor? I can't stand the staring. I can't sleep at night. I've even stopped eating." She lied with practiced ease. Fat crocodile tears slid down her cheeks.

Minerva's eyes softened. Poor girl. She could only imagine the torment Sirius Black inflicted on her daily. She passed the sniffling student her hanky. Her eyes slid to Sirius gauging his reaction. He was looking at the Stone girl with a most peculiar expression on his face. He looked torn between disgust and admiration. Admiration for what, she wondered.

"Please tell me you don't believe this bullshit!" He finally exclaimed.

"Language, Mr. Black!"

"Oh come on! She's clearly pulling your wand. She's not as innocent as she looks! Believe me."

"I've heard enough. Whatever is going on between you two must stop." She stared piercingly over the top of her glasses at them. "If I hear of another incident involving the two of you, the consequences will not be pleasant. You both have a week's detention and 50 points from both your houses."

Sirius tightened the towel around his waist as he sauntered out of McGonagall's office a few minutes later. He grudgingly admired how Stone had handled herself under inquisition. It was impressive to say the least. If he hadn't know her story to be complete codswallop, he might have fallen for it just as McGonagall had. Truth was, her performance probably lessened their punishment. As much as he hated to admit it, she might prove to be a valuable asset in future rule-bending amusements. Perhaps he'd have to think on that. In the meantime, a shower and some clothes were a more pressing matter.

Miranda watched Black hitch up his towel as they parted ways on the stairway. He looked thoughtful. No—that wasn't it. The closest Black ever got to thoughtful was devious, or perhaps plotting. Yes, now that she thought about it, his expression was definitely devious. She wondered what Black had in store for her next. She wasn't surprised in the least. In fact, she expected it. Her act demanded retribution. Only a saint would let this one go, and Sirius Black was most definitely not a saint.

The next morning, James Potter awoke to a muffled sound at the foot of his bed. He snatched up his glasses from the bedside table and slid them up his nose. He poked his head out of his closed bed curtains and spotted Sirius riffling through his trunk. "Oy! Watch what you're doing, Padfoot! You're making a mess of my things. " When he received no reply, he muttered, "If you tell me what you're looking for, I can tell you where it is." He watched as clothes and books flew through the air at an alarming velocity. His expression turned pleading. "Just…please…stop making such a mess. You know how much I hate having my things out of order."

Sirius paused and looked up from the trunk. In his hand was a silvery cloth big enough to fit around a grown man. "You're such a naff. I can't believe Lily can put with you." He snapped the trunk closed with his foot and headed for the door. "I'm borrowing the cloak by the way." He called over his shoulder.

Seconds later, James found himself alone in his dormitory. Remus and Peter must have already gone down to breakfast. This was a rare moment. He flopped back on his bed and signed luxuriously. He absently wondered what Sirius could need the cloak for this early in the morning. He decided he probably didn't want to know, but nonetheless felt slightly left out. Sirius was no doubt up to no good, and he usually dragged James along for the ride.

Sitting up quickly, he was struck by the alarming thought that Sirius had found a new partner in crime. He worriedly pondered this as he walked to the bathroom with the intent to take a shower. He shook his head. At least lily would be pleased. She hated his involvement in tomfoolery with Sirius. He sighed as he turned on the taps. He'd have to confront Sirius after breakfast. In the meantime, he'd concentrate on taking his unruly hair. Lily preferred when he brushed it. It never occurred to him just how whipped he truly was…but then again, when a man's' happily in love, he often willingly forfeits his membership to the man club.


End file.
